


From the Beginning

by Castielslostwings



Series: Rock You [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Castiel (Supernatural), Before Dean was famous, Before they had to hide their relationship, College Student Castiel, Dean Winchester Sings, Dean's fanfiction green eyes, First Dates, Gardener Castiel, House Party, I love Balthazar FYI, M/M, Matchmaker Balthazar (Supernatural), Meet-Cute, Pre-Slash, Rock Star Dean Winchester, Secret Relationship, Serious Castiel (Supernatural), Shy Castiel, Sweet Dean Winchester, fraternity, mentions of pot but no one partakes in the story, shitty beer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 07:39:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16383983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castielslostwings/pseuds/Castielslostwings
Summary: A glimpse into the past, before Dean was famous, to the night he met Castiel, but almost didn't.





	From the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> "From the Beginning" like the song!
> 
> Dean sings "Don't Fear the Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult. No, I will not stop throwing lowkey canon SPN references in my AU fics.
> 
> **IF YOU BOOKMARKED THIS SERIES, PLEASE CHECK THAT YOU STILL HAVE. Somehow I had a copy of the series that was empty - it has been deleted. This is the series you should be subscribed too!

In hindsight, the big moments in a person’s life are usually fairly easily identified. Births, deaths, college acceptances, the moment you met your future spouse, the time you shared an umbrella with someone in your field who then ended up handing you your first career break. Fleeting moments, brief encounters, even conflicts that might have seemed insignificant at the time, that in retrospect turned out to be life-altering. You don’t always get advanced warning when your life is about to change. For those that are lucky enough, the big moments are suspected as they come. A high school quarterback, knowing there’s a collegiate scout watching from the cheering crowd. A microbiologist, seeing their formulation eliminate cancer cells under a microscope for the first time. A woman, about to give birth. Maybe you recognize the moment your life is about to change, and maybe you don’t. The important thing is to grab life by the horns and take each moment as it comes. Just in case you one day look back and realize that some little moment, was actually a big one.

***

_ A University Outside Philadelphia, November 2008. _

“Fuck off, Balthazar.” 

“I will do no such thing, Cassie, as it is my sworn duty to ensure you don’t spend the entirety of your collegiate career rotting away amongst all these books. Perhaps if you’d venture out for a meal on occasion, I wouldn’t have to worry so much. You know your mother would never let me in the house again if I let you die of starvation, and then where would I spend Christmas break? Homeless in a box? Why do you hate me, Castiel?” Balthazar swiveled lazily in his chair, his head tipped over the back and his feet propped up on the long wooden library table wedged between the stacks. He nudged a dimly-lit lamp with an ugly green lampshade with his toe and sighed dramatically. 

Castiel glared back from over the top of a textbook. “I eat,” he said defiantly. “It’s not a crime to prefer the company of books to people. Especially drunken, disorderly, obnoxious frat people,” he added, with a look of disgust. “You  _ do _ understand that this is a university, and we’re both here to learn? Some of us actually care about our education.” He lowered his head back down, refocusing on the book in front of him and vowing to ignore his cousin, however long it took for the man to get bored and leave. Castiel gave it ten minutes, this routine was old news, something they did weekly if not daily, and never once had Castiel caved.

But Balthazar continued to sit and sway in his chair, thoughtfully clicking his teeth every so often.

“Would you  _ stop _ that,” Castiel ground out, slamming his book shut in emphasis. “Why do you hate me?”

Balthazar grinned. “I don’t hate you, Castiel, quite the opposite. I don’t want you to look back on your college experience with regrets, is all.” Castiel made an effort to relax his face and looked away, mollified. “One hour,” Balthazar bargained. “Just one. If you have a terrible time you can be back in the library and making love to your beloved books by eleven, no harm done.” Castiel sighs and doesn’t say no.

There will be many times over the coming years where Castiel looks back on this moment, and wonders what made him say yes to Balthazar, subsequently wondering how his life might have been different if he’d stayed in that library, hiding amongst the botany and horticulture textbooks, and never meeting Dean.

“Fine,” Castiel says begrudgingly. “ _ One _ hour.”

Balthazar claps with glee and pushes back from the table with a loud, careless  _ squeak _ of his chair against the library floor. “Let’s talk wardrobe,” he grins, a glint in his eye.

“Hard limit,” Castiel replies, but he starts the process of putting his books back on their shelves. One night. One hour, even.  _ How bad could it be _ , he thinks, trying to be optimistic.

***

_ Frathouse Row, 10:30 PM _

It’s bad. The frat throwing the party -  _ I...ate a pie _ , or something, Castiel doesn’t really follow Greek Life- is headquartered in an off-campus rowhome that looks from the outside like it should have been condemned by the local Codes department years ago. It’s three stories high and looks to be leaning slightly to the left, or maybe Castiel is having a stroke, the upside of which would be that he would almost certainly be allowed to leave. There’s no front yard to speak of, the grass long since given up after being alternately ignored and trampled on nightly. Broken red solo cups and cigarette butts litter the ground. Some of the windows are broken and Castiel isn’t even sure there  _ is _ a front door, it may very well just be crepe paper streamers. The front porch alone is full to the brim with people, the decrepit wooden floorboards groaning and sagging under their combined weight. Laughter and music burst rapaciously through the open door(hole?), and Balthazar grabs Castiel’s wrist, dragging him inside before he can voice his concerns.

“Ah, there’s the door. Of course,” Castiel says, nodding sagely as he gestures to a battered and heavy piece of wood leaning against the wall in the entryway.

Balthazar rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a tightass, Cassie.” He reconsiders, “At least not like that,” he amends, with a wink. Castiel huffs, half in embarrassment and half at the implication that he’d sleep with anyone he’s likely to find in a place like this. “Look, the band is setting up, I heard the lead singer is really something special. Let’s go,” he enthuses, as he tugs Castiel by the wrist over to a keg, muscling and charming his way to the front of the line in order to grab them two beers. Castiel takes a look around the room and pulls a face as he tastes his watery drink. It’s not enormous, hardly a great venue for the band that’s struggling to fit into their places on the tiny elevated platform at one end. Most of the party has spilled out into the surrounding hallways and rooms, most likely the backyard as well. Castiel has intentions of getting out there as soon as possible himself, at least the air will be clean versus this room’s pervasive odor of unwashed boy, pot and cheap beer.

He briefly considers trying to find somewhere to sit, but the only available space is on the disgusting-looking couches, squeezed between couples draped all over each other.  _ Pass, _ Castiel thinks, and he starts to look for the exit to the backyard. But just then, the band starts playing, kicking off with a countdown as the first strains of “Don’t Fear the Reaper” fill the air.  _ Well, that’s interesting,  _ Castiel thinks, not expecting a classic rock cover. He turns his full attention to the band, and  _ wow. _ He’s instantly rooted to the spot when his eyes meet the lead singer’s. Something passes between them, and the singer doesn’t look away - if anything, his gaze intensifies, and Castiel finds himself winding forward through the crowd to get closer to the little stage. The singer is playing guitar as well, and quite skillfully - he keeps his eyes on Castiel through the major rift solo in the middle of the song - his beautiful, forest green eyes, the likes of which Castiel doesn’t think he’s ever seen on an actual human. Castiel is peripherally aware of Balthazar waving a hand in front of his face and looking at him like he’s lost his mind, but Castiel waves him off. When the song ends, his eyes are still locked with the lead singer’s. The man takes a small step off the stage and walks forward to stand in his space.

They stand there like that for a moment until the spell is broken by Balthazar clearing his throat, and the green-eyed man looks away briefly, obviously remembering that he has an audience. He looks back at Castiel and flashes him a brilliant smile as he holds out his hand and says, “Hi, I’m Dean.”

Castiel is suddenly all too aware of the silence in the room, of the rest of the band and all the intoxicated co-eds staring at him, many of them whispering and giggling. He looks around and then back at Dean, swallowing hard. “I… I have to go,” he blurts out, backing away towards the front door. He ignores Balthazar’s pleas to wait, and the pull inside him to look back at the green-eyed man, and runs.

***

_ Campus Library, Midnight _

Castiel is so absorbed in his textbook, he doesn’t hear anyone enter the second floor where he’s holed up. He’d run straight from the party back to the comfort of the library without looking back once. Sure, he’d kicked himself a few times along the way, wishing he were braver, more outgoing - but the fact is, parties like that weren’t his scene, and it had been a mistake to go at all. Whatever moment he’d had with the attractive green-eyed man ( _ Dean,  _ his brain supplied unhelpfully), it was simply an illusion brought on by alcohol and the atmosphere.  _ What atmosphere?!  _ The rational part of his brain scolded.  _ You weren’t even drunk, you didn’t even finish your first beer.  _ Castiel had shaken those thoughts off and continued on his way, swiping his student ID for access into the library and taking the stairs two at a time back to the shelves that contained books for his major. Castiel felt safe here, he felt understood, as odd as that might seem to others. Plants didn’t judge.  

He was just getting into the first chapter on nursery management when he was startled upright by a figure standing at the end of the stacks. Their eyes locked and held, just as they had earlier that evening, and Castiel forgot how to breathe.

“Dean?” He ventured, “What are you doing here?”

Dean smiled cheekily in reply, and he was clearly actually as beautiful and charming as Castiel had thought ( _ damn him _ ). He walked forward and pulled out the chair next to Castiel. “Is this seat taken?” Castiel fought the urge to roll his eyes as he peered over his book at the man. Instead, he shook his head no. Dean’s smile widened as he sank down into the chair, shrugging his jacket off and revealing toned biceps that made Castiel’s mouth water just a little.

“You ran off before I could get your name. And seeing as how you didn’t leave me a glass slipper or anything, I had to convince your friend to help me out.” He produced a card from the pocket of his jeans and slid it across the table to Castiel. Balthazar’s school ID.

Castiel furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the side, confused. “Glass slipper?”

Dean’s smile faded just a touch. “Yea, man, like Cinderella? Anyway, your boy told me I could find you here. And that your name is… Cassie?”

Castiel snorted and vowed to clean out Balthazar’s a la carte meal points before returning his card. “My name is  _ Castiel.  _ Cas, if you insist on shortening it.” He paused and looked back over at Dean. “You came all the way here to find out my name? What about your party?”

Dean shrugged. “That party was awful. I thought…” He trailed off and squirmed a little in his seat, obviously feeling a bit insecure. “I mean, listen, man, I can leave you alone, if that’s what you want.” Castiel hesitated, awkward and unsure. Dean quickly stood and started to gather his coat. “OK, hey - sorry for bothering you.” He moved to leave and Castiel quickly stood up, reaching his hand out in Dean’s direction, an apology.

“Dean, wait. Please,” he gestured towards the chair. “You’ll have to excuse my manners, I don’t… as Balthazar would say,” he put his fingers up to make air quotes, “get out much.” That made Dean laugh, and Castiel knew it was probably at his behavior rather than the phrase, but the man plopped happily back down into his chair, and Castiel returned to his. “As such, I’m afraid I don’t really have a standard for comparison, but I still feel that I have to agree with you… that party was absolutely awful.” This makes Dean laugh again, and Castiel feels himself start to loosen up, smiling for real for the first time that night. “I can’t promise the library will be much more interesting, however,” he admits, fingering the edge of his text. He’s not embarrassed by his proclivities, but he knows that he comes off as odd and antisocial to many people.

Dean doesn’t seem to mind, but he does shrug and offer, “I mean, if you’re not too busy, maybe we could go hit up Common Grounds?” He wiggles his butt and adds, “There’s good coffee, and the chairs are more comfortable. I’d take you for a beer, but I’m only 20,” he finishes, a bit sheepishly. Castiel smiles and enjoys how Dean’s easy going, happy demeanor is affecting him. Dean leans forward then and lets his pinky finger brush Castiel’s where it sits on the table. “I think you’re interesting, Cas. I mean, from what I’ve seen. Which, admittedly was as much of your back as your face.” He grins, letting his gaze flit up and down the parts of Castiel’s body that he can see over the table as Castiel flushes.  _ Finger brush. _ “Not that I’m complaining.”  _ Brush. _

“Alright,” Castiel agrees, wiping his mouth in an effort to hide his smile. “I’d love to have coffee with you, Dean.”

***

Ten years later, a frame containing two napkins from Common Grounds hangs above Dean and Castiel’s marital bed and a picture of it runs in the Rolling Stone spread for their first and only interview.

_ “Cas, I think you’re perfect. And your ass looks great in those pants. Call me. 555-0864. Xo Dean” _

_ “Hello Dean. I had a lovely time. Text me that you got home safely. 555-7041. -Cas” _

 


End file.
